November 24, 2006

Yesterday was one of those days I seem to have far too often or not often enough, its where the unusual becomes to norm. So it started typically with family matters; making sure Gabby (my 6 year old daughter) gets ready for school in time and trying to get CJ (my three year old son) not to destroy the house, himself or at least not create a horrific mess. First he poured himself a large cup of fruit punch juice concentrate - straight up - that he spilled so it looked like he was young Dracula with the red juice all over, then it was an excessively overfilled bowl of cereal, which I took from him, so he took the bag of cereal out the box and a yogurt that he opened enough to create an oozy mess. At least he didn't do like yesterday and do a huge dump in his pamper that I find out about by dank sewer smell that assaults my nose as we drive out to face traffic dropping him to day care. He keeps us busy!

Then I collect Dane and head off to Brasso Seco to map an area on Paria Springs Estate where we are creating a jungle camp. We collect my wonderfully cantankerous friend and Shaman, Cristo, in Arima and hit the Arima Blanchisseuse Road. Just before Temple Village we hit a blocked road and a protest! The road had been in crap condition for sometime but a project to repair it made it much worse by adding waves of slushy mud and rocks into the road with each rain. It seems the government in its infinite wisdom awarded to contract to fix the road to a funeral home!So the persistent theory was that the massive and unmarked hole was devised to kill drivers and the funeral home would be right on hand to pick up the business!Everyone agreed it was a good plan.

Fed up with too many busted mufflers, tyres and other damage the villagers blocked the road. Of course being a Trinidadian country side protest at Christmas time the burning tyres and rubble, black smoke is mixed with the sounds of Parang (local and lively Christmas music of Spanish origins), Calypso, rum and other unidentified alcohols shared out in cups by the protesters.One van was especially lively and I take a note not to drive near them. Stuck waiting for the Back Hoe to clear the debris I went to take a look and got sucked into making an interview on CCN News TV to state the obvious - that the road needs some serious fixin.

So an hour of shit talk and cussin everyone we were the first car over the muddy pass and onto Brasso Seco. Since we were two hours late and I forgot my shoes, the shoulder strap for the trimmer, my brains and other necessary things we decided just to use the GPS to map the site, which was our primary purpose for being there.

We successfully mapped the site by making a loop around the perimeter of the cleared area. Cristo and I are back at the starting place chatting about how we shall develop the site, we walk forward about 3 steps when Dane who is behind us shouts "Shit! That’s not a Macajuel!!!”(A Macajuel is the local name for our most common Boa Constrictor).I turn to see Dane hopping on one leg staring wild eyed at the ground in front of him.He adds excitedly “It’s a Mapipire!!!" (The Mapipire is a Pit Viper that is quite deadly and feared).So I look at the spot where I was standing less than a minute ago expecting to see a 2 foot snake but a 4 inch tail is sticking out of the 8 inch high shrubs so I now think the snake is 4 feet, maybe.You see this snake is a prolific breeder, it can give birth up to 50 young at a times, so I often see the young.However there are lots of snakes, birds of prey and Cappauds (Crappaud is French Patois for our local Marine Toad that is common) that will eat the young, so there are few large adults.Local folk lore says that the Crappaud get its poison from the Mapipire, this is probably from someone seeing the Crappaud eating a Mapipire.

I finally spot the head, its HUGE! A chill of excitement runs through me and I am dying to handle it as it is amazingly beautiful, this snake is 6 foot if an inch, its head is the classic diamond shape its belly is a creamy lemon yellow and the back its so cryptic that if you take your eyes off it for a second you have a hard time finding it again.The feeling is like standing at the edge of a cliff and having a strange urge to jump!The problem is the possible death part that keeps one from not taking a jump and me from reaching for the snake.Whoever said death is not a deterrent never looked at it in its beady black eyes and flicking for tongue.I think if we said the death penalty was now to put convicted criminals in a room with deadly snakes we just may see a decrease in crime.

It looks as scared of us as we are of it, so we use a stick to chase it out the way.It rattles its tail to tell us to back off but never tries to bite us.In fact on close (well somewhat close) examination of the head it shows mud on it, I thought this came from the snake looking in holes for prey, but Cristo says he thought that either he or I actually stood on it.I prefer my theory, his is scarier.Either way we stood just inches from the nose of a deadly snake that did nothing and we never saw.It chose to move only after we moved.

Needless to say after this we checked every blade of grass, rock and branch for snakes after that. Other starange things happened but can't mention those here.

November 21, 2006

Well at the end of this month we say fair well to a bloddy good bloke, Jeremy Brook, we can only guess at how many trees have sucumbed under his chainsaw while in Trinidad or how many times he gave very vague answers to his lovely wife as to when he shall return from seducing fallen trees. The number of busted shins are countless, though I think the number of busted derailuers stands at 2.

His chainsaw has cut a wide swath far and wide through areas like Caura, Cuarita, Brasso Santo, El Tucuche, Rincon, Las Cuevas, Paria, Brasso Seco, Rest Hut, Blanchisseuse and much more. Forever more the trees will tell their saplings; "Don't let the wind blow you over, hold strong! For if you fall Jeremy Brook will be along to dice you into minute peices!"

We the mountain bikers of Trinidad and Tobago shall miss you Jeremy, for you are truly a bloody good bloke! Until we meet again, happy trails and muddy rails my friend!